Caramel Crisps
by Emo Fox
Summary: {Omegaverse} {Case-Fic} Sherlock attempts to coax John into impregnating him. Too much to explain in a simple summary, but that's the start of it. JohnLock MorMor Mystrade
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notice: 

This is my first multi-chapter contribution to the Sherlock fandom. Also, omegaverse, because I am fascinated with that universe and I haven't tried anything concrete in it yet. This will be a long epic, and there is a sequel with second generation characters I may or may not post. This was an undertaking I was sketching out with an RP friend of mine, but that fell out, and I re-wrote this myself, with strings to the original plot we plotted.

Anyway. I don't think you need such extensive back story. I hope you enjoy the read, and feel so inclined to drop me a review. Thank you.

"Caramel Crisps"

*One*

By: Emo Fox

There hadn't been any cases(no good ones) in over two weeks. In three days Sherlock would be in heat and he'd have to sit in the house another boring week. He was bored, so incredibly bored, his current experiments not appealing; left to rot in the kitchen.

He had changed positions countless times, had flopped on John's bed then back to his own bed(which he hadn't used in years) then back to the living room to sulk on the couch. Pacing, playing music, and looking at old case files did nothing to quell his over active brain.

He needed stimulus. Needed it now.

Sherlock began to recall John saying he'd like to be a father; once upon a time, back when they were young and Sherlock was moody and told the alpha no. If he wanted offspring he'd have to find another omega. The topic hadn't been touched since then; John had submitted, for the sake of loving Sherlock.

But now they were in their mid twenties, and Sherlock had nothing else to occupy his brain; and why he was remembering that old scene from yesteryears was because-

Well.

He had been seeing more and more pregnant omegas around town. It wasn't a need in himself; that maternal switch had not magically clicked 'on', but it was intriguing. Especially right now, when he had nothing else to occupy himself and that itching of heat would be coming soon.

It could be the rush of hormones he was experiencing; the usual bit of hyper awareness that came the few days before.

He had read about it, pregnancy and the like; most of it had been dismissed in favor of more important information. This could be a decent experiment, see the effects on his own body. Nine months to record and document everything that would occur. Then of course would come the infant, and that was just a living experiment.

Yes, if he broke it down like this, in blocks of information; of data and the gathering of it, it was very appealing indeed.

Surely John would agree. He had wanted babies before, that need was most likely not as quelled in the alpha as it was in himself. Not to mention he worked in that clinic, of course he only treated betas and alphas, but Sherlock was sure on occasion a pregnant omega would walk in and John would feel that craving again.

Surely.

Sherlock was currently upside down in his favorite chair, legs propped over the top of it, curls nearly brushing the floor and hands steepled just under his chin. He stared pensively across the room at their front door, knowing it would be just another hour before John came home.

He'd have to choose his words carefully. John wouldn't go for the experiment unless he thought Sherlock was sincere.

Sherlock's mind decided to write up scenarios, dialogue, trying to press on the best case and hold it there in the forefront of his mind for when his alpha would be home.

Sherlock didn't have to wait too long.

John had finished up the swing shift he had picked up from Adam; deciding to cover for him, because Sherlock had been in that turbulent mood of his most the week and John had really began to seek anything as an excuse to be out of sight of his moody omega. He knew the detective would settle again, once his heat passed, or once Lestrade manage to find a decent case, and then things would be back to normal.

However, as he walked up the steps to 221B; there was something in the air that didn't feel quite right. He wasn't a superstitious man, but it definitely set him on edge, and as he opened the door his eyes fell on his mate whom was propped at a ridiculous angle in his armchair. Those vulpine eyes caught his from across the room and John offered a frown.

He knew Sherlock well enough to see those gears turning in his head, and he was almost positive he wouldn't like the result of what the man had been stagnating on all afternoon. "I can see you thinking, and I'm going to say 'no' right now before you ask."

"You're not usually that perceptive."

"You're not usually that obvious." He said easily, hanging up his coat and stepping into the kitchen. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, getting a bit more comfortable as he grabbed the tea kettle from the middle shelf and filled it with water. "Would you like some tea?"

Sherlock kept his pensive frown as he followed John around the kitchen from his skewed angle. "That would be fine." He offered, re-working the words in his head, deciding on a new approach since John didn't seem to be in such a receivable mood. Must've had a bad day at work; no, of course he did, he could see it in his posture, the way his brows knit, even the tension in his hands. Long, tiring day, which meant, Sherlock had to approach things at a softer angle if he was to get what he wanted.

Of course he would get what he wanted; when he sunk his teeth in something, he didn't let go.

John gathered two mugs, set in the bags, and poured the now boiling water in the cups; he was busy focusing on his domestic chore, he didn't notice when Sherlock got up from his armchair and stepped across the room with those long, sure strides.

Sherlock came up right behind him, his lips to his ear, "You shouldn't overwork yourself."

John jumped, spilling hot water, catching his hand, he cursed. "Christ-Sherlock, don't spook me like that!" He slammed the kettle down, put his hand under cool water; thankful the burn wasn't so bad.

Sherlock merely straightened his posture, put-off by John's exclamation. "Hardly sneaking, John, you should pay more attention." He chided, "We're the only two occupants in the flat, I wasn't trying to be quiet, you should have heard me get up, let alone my steps on the carpet-"

"Yes, alright, I get it." John grumbled, sighing heavily, turning off the tap and trying to regroup. He wiped the water off the counter with a nearby dish towel; feeling Sherlock's eyes on him, that critical gaze that didn't mean anything good. "Maybe I'll stop being on edge when you finally just come out and say it."

"Say what?"

"Don't play innocent, it doesn't suit you." John huffed, tossing the sodden towel in the sink and turning to the tall omega. He scented the air, as if to be sure; but of course Sherlock wasn't on his heat yet(though the man acted so strange before, and during, John had to just be overly sure). Sherlock's cycle was predictable, they even had it marked in red on the calendar, and John had taken the next week off. They still had three days at best, and Sherlock wasn't one to fall into early heat, unless there was unplanned outside stimulation. "What is it you want to say?"

Sherlock had his hands tucked behind his back, his gaze locked on John's. Unfortunately his mate was all rigid muscle, his arms locked over his chest. Defensive, intimidating posture; not that Sherlock was easily intimidated, but the fact that John was putting in the extra effort to have him back down meant the man was not in the mood to get ran 'round the bend. So, this left Sherlock two options. To submit(rather uncharacteristic of him), or be direct and come out with what John was already assuming to be a question he didn't want to have asked. Either route had very little percent of a positive outcome for Sherlock's cause. He could wait until later, but John would just be expecting it. Sherlock wasn't the type to just toss something aside, especially not something he had been clearly thinking on, so there was no room to just turn around and pretend nothing happened. So, with a infuriating huff Sherlock said, "I want you to impregnate me."

Whatever John thought Sherlock was going to say, that wasn't it.

It took John one minute and thirty six seconds to sputter; which wasn't exactly a response, but it made him drop his alpha posture. There was shock and confusion written on his face; as well as hope. Yes, Sherlock could work with that, John just made it very obvious he had not forgotten the conversation they had in their youth and that children were still very much on his mind. Perhaps trying to reign in his victory, Sherlock settled his arms around John's shoulders, drawing his mate in; his nose against his temple as he breathed in his scent. "Sherlock-what-?" John's hands came up to rest on Sherlock's chest, as if to ward him off but fell short of actually pushing; just pressed there, putting those few inches of distance between them.

"Exactly what I said." Sherlock murmured, his tone low, coaxing, "When I go into heat in a few days, I would like you to impregnate me."

John was still suspicious, he was not yet relaxed under Sherlock's loose hold. "What brought this on?"

"What do you mean?" Sherlock said loftily, "I've been thinking about it. You still have the need for a child, don't you?"

"Sherlock," John just sounded tired now, not entirely angry. He brought up a hand to rub down his face, trying to shrug out from under his mate, "We've had this talk before. We've been over this. I accepted I wouldn't have a family with you, so why?"

"I changed my mind."

John laughed humorlessly, "You don't change your mind."

"I have." He responded with an edge to his voice, always one to rise to a challenge. However, Sherlock had only changed his mind on very few subjects in his lifetime. The change of profession he wished to seek(from pirate to detective), to accepting his omega gender, and finally to the acceptance of being John's mate. All of which took time, coaxing, and quite a few childish tantrums. On the subject matter of being bred, Sherlock had been very clear; it had actually been one of the worst fights he and John had. John had a right to be tentative; but that was annoying, predictable, and ordinary. Surely John should just accept Sherlock's change in mood and appease him, because it was what they both wanted. Sherlock would get a new experiment, and John would get his family.

It benefited them both, so why was John being stubborn?

John stared at Sherlock and Sherlock stared right back. There was a tension there, between them, where it shouldn't be because they were talking about children and that should never be a stressful conversation. John huffed, Sherlock frowned, and they remained their two feet apart looking ready to fight. "No." John said firmly this time, leaving no room for misinterpretation; the omega opened his mouth to speak and John said again, "No. I mean it. Not until you can tell me exactly why you've changed your mind, we are not having children."

"I don't understand-"

"Really?" John looked at him incredulously, "I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but so help me, if you tell me this is an ample experiment." He kept eye contact and Sherlock actually looked away with a sniff; he didn't like lying to John, and the alpha took that in stride. "See, right there, you've given me all the information I need."

"Hardly." He murmured petulantly.

"Just drop it." He said, offering Sherlock the mug as a type of peace offering.

Sherlock didn't take the offering; instead stomped from the kitchen, into the living room and swept up his violin in one of the most dramatic flicks of his wrist John had seen in quite a while. The jarring note was expected; but it still set his teeth on edge and he sighed when he set Sherlock's mug down.

"Sherlock-" He tried, but his words were cut through with a terrible whine of the violin; the omega had his back to him, his posture stiff despite the fluidity of his hands. "For Christ's sake Sherlock you know this is right for the both of us! You know you don't want a child!" Sherlock continued to ignore him, and John pursued, stepping into the living room and keeping his voice raised above what couldn't be called music. "Sherlock!"

Finally Sherlock lowered the instrument and stared at John with sharp ice-colored eyes, his chin slightly raised, "I've heard you. Is there anything else you want to add aside from the obvious? I understand you no longer have the want to have a family with me, to breed me, I _understand_."

John's anger left him in one quick exhale; like a punch to the gut. Now, hold on a minute, that wasn't what he said at all! He didn't mean, Sherlock definitely had a way of making him feel like an ass when he wasn't the one in the wrong. No, he didn't do anything wrong, he didn't say anything wrong, it was all the truth. "I didn't say, I didn't mean it like that. You know what I mean." Though he couldn't muster the energy to add that edge to his tone.

"Then tell me, what is it you meant?"

"You don't really want to have a family, and you know that's true so don't turn this on me!" Sherlock made to raise his violin and John put his hand on the bulk of it, keeping the detective's attention; holding those fierce eyes with his. "Sherlock, let me think about this, alright? You're serious?"

Sherlock didn't waver, "Why would I say something I don't mean?"

John let his hand fall from the instrument, "Right. Well, I'm going to go up for a nap. I'll be back down later, alright?"

Sherlock shrugged, though wasn't entirely sure what he was feeling at the moment. Victory seemed achieved, but something about the entire thing unsettled him. He didn't like it. Especially not when John just turned and started up the stairs to their room; leaving him in the quiet, their tea left to chill on the counter. He sank himself down in his chair and began to play softer, almost melancholy notes as his alpha slept.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notice: Chapter two! It's sort of a short one, but the next one is longer and I didn't want to mash it all in one. Anyhow. Please leave a review if you would be so kind? Thank you to all the followers of this work, I'm trying to focus and get the chapters out promptly.

"Caramel Crisps"

'Chapter Two'

They never actually touched down on the subject of children again. John took more hours at the clinic and left Sherlock to brood. He was evasive in speech and through text; where Sherlock had not given up, of course not, he did realize the direct route was not working. He had to formulate a new plan, a new script, before he'd rouse the subject again.

The days pressed on and finally Sherlock's heat struck.

John was away, would be until late afternoon, but he was starting to feel the effects. It wasn't supposed to trigger until tomorrow morning, but that could be tallied up to the recent stress. Sherlock's heats were normally predictable(they had the days marked in red on the calendar magnetted to the fridge), but he did recall a few sperratic ones in his youth, and one here at 221B when he and John first moved in and Sherlock's body got used to having an alpha constantly present.

Sherlock was in his silk dressing gown that was starting to feel more like a potato sack; rough and abrasive on his oversensitized skin. His temperature was gradually rising, his heartrate increasing, he couldn't seem to get enough air in his lungs. His skin was starting to feel sticky, fever hot, he tugged at the fabrics he was encased in but didn't exert the effort to shed the clothing just yet.

Normally he preferred to record his heats, from the start to finish; he kept multiple progress journals, but today he couldn't keep focused. He wasn't used to being denied, and that was exactly what John was doing. Denying him. As if he wasn't good enough to be bred, John didn't want him bearing his offspring, what kind of omega was he if—

No, no, no, no.

His heat was making him emotional; those base instincts were taking over his mind. Ridiculous. Sherlock growled and turned over, tugging his dressing gown tighter around himself despite his want to cast off all his clothes. It was hardly an hour into his heat and he was already feeling pathetic.

Defective, useless, freak.

Sherlock frowned because that wasn't true. John was just being sentimental and he foolishly wanted Sherlock to feel the same. It was just procreation. Just a child, it was such a common event; John was just acting pig-headed about the entire thing. Denying him even though John wanted it, and even though Sherlock had asked nicely.

Sherlock tried to get comfortable in his arm chair but couldn't. After tossing and turning for over five minutes the moody omega got out of his seat and flopped down in John's plush chair. It was better. It smelled like John, the scent relaxed him enough where he could forget his skin was starting to itch. He buried his face in the back of the arm chair; feeling the tension start to leave his body as he took long, calming breaths of his alpha's residual scent. He was nearly lulled to sleep(having been up for nearly two straight days before), when his mobile vibrated with a text. He fished the mobile out of his pocket and glared down at the screen.

Busy? - GL

I assume you need my help? - SH

He had been waiting on a case for weeks; excitement pricked his skin, though on the eve of his heat, he wasn't going to pass up this case(unless it was something he could solve from home, then there was no point putting himself at risk going outside). That aside, Sherlock prided himself on being able to keep his head(so far up to three days) before he turned into exactly what he was, an omega, mewling and just begging to be taken. He tried for four, almost made it, but lost the ability to string thoughts together with John in such close proximity and his will power crumbled just before John was sure to fall. Luckily his alpha had such discipline; Sherlock wouldn't put up with usual alpha behavior, almost not ever, unless he was completely at the mercy of his heat.

I'll text you the address. Murder here at the corner, body dumped, looks something brutal. It might be a message due to the severity. Omega, late thirties, un-bonded as far as we can tell, though that's unusual, might be wrong, but it's impossible to get a good scent off her. Left out over night. - GL

It was obvious they were missing something; but Greg was smart enough to leave most of the body prodding to Sherlock, and he did do a decent job of giving him facts in neat little bullet points because Sherlock would hardly read through anything more than that—assuming it was probably all wrong to begin with. His mobile vibrated with another text; the address, a short distance by cab.

He was already up and moving, getting himself dressed to go out; trying not to squirm with the uncomfortable feeling of his heavy clothes that made him feel even more confined; sticky and overheated. At least he wasn't lubricating yet, but that shouldn't happen for another ten hours, when his hormones began to cycle at full speed, forcing him to release more pheromones on top of the ones his skin was already secreting. He wrapped the scarf around his neck and buried his nose in the fabric; outside was going to smell terrible, his senses heightened.

Coming? - GL

Yes. Don't touch anything. - SH

He had forgotten to text Lestrade the first time; too pre-occupied with his own deductions from the brief message the detective inspector had sent. He turned off the lights to the flat, trotted down the stairs and out into the bright afternoon. Despite the sun being out; it was a crisp, cold day, the frigid air felt glorious. He hailed a cab; had enough mind to pass it along, alpha driver, until he finally got a beta driver and stuck himself inside. It would only be a twenty minute drive; he decided to text John.

Case came in. - SH

You told Lestrade you can't go, didn't you? Is it something you can solve from home? - JW

It's a quick trip. I'll send you the directions. - SH

Your heat is tomorrow. You're not going. - JW

Actually, my heat started an hour ago. - SH

Stay home. I'll check it out, I'll bring the laptop. - JW

You're working. It'll just be a moment. - SH

Sherlock. - JW

Sherlock rolled his eyes to John's attempt at controlling him. Never worked. Besides, he could handle himself, he wasn't some weak willed omega that swooned at the scent of any alpha. He looked out the window and pocketed his phone; ignoring the following vibrations of what was probably John's angry texts. Then came a longer buzz; hm, must've tried to call. It was likely John would try and get someone to cover, would try and intervene at the crime scene; but Sherlock would get his look, and that was probably all he needed to solve the case, so it wouldn't be a loss.


End file.
